


Full Circle

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Marks [12]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for part four of the Love Springs Forth challenge: <i>Established relationship or long lasting love. The happiness of being together ^_^ Cosy home life or adventuring together, tasting the fruits of life that are all the sweeter because they are shared with the one you love. Growing old together, enjoying life together, maybe having children. Years worth of precious memories. Maybe stable but never stale :)</i> Rewrite of Enemy at the Gate, or: how the Sheppard-McKay-Sherman household faces a planetary crisis. Some dialogue lifted directly from the episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the supreme and wonderful brumeier for an amazingly quick beta but most of all for talking me through the hard parts, helping me save John Sheppard, and otherwise being a support and an inspiration. Blink-and-you-miss-it crossover.

Rodney had never thought in a million years he’d like Nancy Sherman, but he kind of did. He could see why John had married her. She was brilliant and warm and witty, and most of all, she was a wonderful mother to Jason. (He could think that as long as he ignored the elephant in the room, that she’d lied about Jason’s existence for the first five years of his life and hidden him and John from each other.) Rodney supposed, since he hadn’t been married to Nancy and didn’t have a tangled emotional history with her, it made more sense that these days he got along with her better than John did (although to see them together in public, a casual observer would think they were long-time friends who were nothing but amicable). The way things ended up working out, though, Rodney and Grant did most of the inter-household communication about Jason.  
  
It had been an agonizing decision, giving up Atlantis and even front-line gate team missions, but they’d done it for Jason (who Rodney adored and was secretly trying to tempt toward the Science Side, because Jason had inherited not only John’s unruly hair and pretty eyes and smirky smile, but also his facility for numbers). Now they were living in DC, a few blocks away from Nancy and Grant’s house so Jason could stay in the same neighborhood and the same school even though he alternated time at each of his parents’ homes, two weeks per household. John had been badgered into getting a regulation haircut (that didn’t last long and somehow he kept failing to get to the barber in a timely manner) and donning his dress service blues on a daily basis to act as O’Neill’s right hand man, helping him protect Atlantis from the Powers That Be at the Pentagon, and Rodney worked as the chief science advisor on Project Blue Book (because Sam had commanded Atlantis for a year after Elizabeth’s death and was slated to take command of the General Hammond when it came off the production line).  
  
When Grant called with the weekly update, Rodney was unprepared for the anger in the man’s voice.  
  
“So,” Rodney said, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder as he answered an email from Zelenka (the Atlantis CSO, which he wasn’t enjoying nearly as much as he thought he would, since it involved off-world missions). “What’s Jason not eating this week?”  
  
“McKay,” Grant said, and Rodney paused at the use of his last name. “Are you missing something from your office? Something classified and dangerous and that a seven-year-old boy shouldn’t have in his possession?”  
  
“What? No.” But Rodney immediately cast a glance around his office. Unlike the stereotype of the messy, absent-minded scientist, Rodney liked his workspace to be neat, so he could find what he wanted when he wanted it. Nothing appeared to be out of place. He didn’t have any dangerous or experimental tech on loan from the lab.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes, I’m sure.”  
  
Grant sighed. “Then can you see if John is missing anything?”  
  
“Sure. Give me a second.” Rodney stood up and crossed the office, poked around John’s desk.  
  
John was also scrupulously neat, years of military training drilling into him that a mis-tied shoelace could be the difference between life or death (and at first that had seemed silly but after watching Zelenka trip on his shoelace offworld while Wraith darts soared overhead, Rodney stopped making fun of John about it). His desk was perfectly organized, and nothing was out of place. Nothing except - his good luck charm. The one Holland had given him when he graduated from flight school. The good luck charm Holland had picked up at a yard sale and was actually an Ancient device, just a little night-light, probably intended for children.  
  
Which was probably why a child had taken it.  
  
“John’s paperweight is missing,” Rodney said.  
  
“Would this ‘paperweight’ happen to light up with a thought for Jason but not for me?” Grant asked through gritted teeth.  
  
“That answers that,” Rodney muttered. “It also lights up for John, if it makes you feel better.”  
  
“It doesn’t. What’s going on?”  
  
“That’s classified,” Rodney said.  
  
“My son acting as a human light switch is classified?” Grant’s voice rose in incredulity.  
  
“Unfortunately yes,” Rodney said. “We weren’t sure he had the ability, though given his Unmarked status it seemed likely, but we were avoiding having him tested because the government doesn’t need to know he has that...skill, all right?”  
  
“He says the thing is talking to him.”  
  
John had never mentioned the good luck charm talking to him, but he had admitted that certain Ancient devices _told_ him what they were, what to do with them. He’d said it wasn’t words, just an impression, but a seven-year-old probably wasn’t quite that articulate yet, not even one as bright as Jason Sheppard.  
  
“That’s not unexpected,” Rodney said.  
  
Grant sighed. He knew John and Rodney were involved in something highly classified, that Dave Sheppard had been timid as a mouse for months after the Pentagon cracked down on him for accessing portions of John’s service record that were redacted for Homeworld Security purposes. He also knew that whatever they were doing, it had saved Nancy from certain death, so he resigned himself to being in the dark, not just about their work but Nancy’s too. Nancy’s director status at the Pentagon didn’t give her clearance for the Stargate Program, but she still had much higher clearance than Grant, who was an AUSA.  
  
“Okay. Fine. I’ll make him apologize and give it back. Although obviously it wasn’t so vital that either of you noticed it was missing.”  
  
“It’s not a tool, just - a memento. From one of John’s fallen comrades.”  
  
“Ah. Right. I’ll make sure he has it when you pick him up after school today.”  
  
“Thank you. Have a good day, Grant.”  
  
“You too, Rodney.”  
  
John was in the kitchen making breakfast when Rodney joined him.  
  
“Morning,” John said, pressing a quick kiss to Rodney’s mouth. “Is everything all right?”  
  
“Jason has the gene.” Rodney reached for the coffee pot.  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“He stole your little good luck charm and has been lighting it up like nobody’s business, and Grant is pretty freaked out.”  
  
John sobered at the mention of the good luck charm and all it signified. “We suspected as much.”  
  
“He hasn’t been tested, so as far as the IOA is concerned, Jason’s just a kid.”  
  
“Not just a kid. Our kid.” John kissed Rodney again, softer and lingering, and Rodney smiled. It had taken Jason a long time to warm up to him, but they’d bonded over Jason’s love of math puzzles and been fine ever since.  
  
“Come on,” Rodney said. “If you keep doing that, I’ll have to take you back to bed, and then we’ll be really late for work.”  
  
John crowded closer, pressing his body against Rodney’s and kissing him deeply, thoroughly, and heat stirred in Rodney’s blood.  
  
Rodney pulled back with a groan. “Not fair. I have a briefing with Ambassador Shen and a bunch of other IOA talking heads.”  
  
“And you will be rewarded if you don’t blow any of them up,” John said, grinning. He handed Rodney the bacon sandwich he’d made, and while Rodney gobbled it down John filled his travel coffee mug (and topped off his breakfast mug, because a caffeinated Rodney was a slightly more pleasant Rodney for the science underlings at the Pentagon labs).  
  
“There’d better be some blowing in my reward,” Rodney mumbled between bites, and John laughed.  
  
“You know there will be.” He filled his own coffee mug and packaged up his sandwich.  
  
The doorbell rang. Rodney frowned. “Were you expecting anybody?”  
  
John shook his head. He started for the front door, and Rodney followed him. John pulled open the door, keeping his body between Rodney and whoever was on the other side - he was still a soldier, still alert despite days spent at a desk and glad-handing IOA dignitaries and schmoozing Pentagon generals.  
  
“Can I help you?”  
  
“Sir.” It was Naomi Cartwright, in dress blues.  
  
John pulled the door open wider, grinning. “Naomi, come on in. Look at you - Light Colonel now? Congratulations!”  
  
Cartwright lifted a hand to the silver oak leaf at her shoulder and smiled. It was a new promotion, then. But she didn’t step into the house. “Actually, sir, Dr. McKay, I need you to come with me.”  
  
Rodney craned his neck and saw a sleek black government sedan idling on the sidewalk. John, because he was perverse, tended to prefer taking public transport to work.  
  
“What’s going on?” John asked. “I’m supposed to meet with General O’Neill in an hour.”  
  
“Change of plans,” Cartwright said. “Remember that interview with Time?”  
  
Rodney frowned. “I thought that was next week.”  
  
“Like I said, change of plans.” Cartwright stepped back and gestured for them to accompany her to the car.  
  
“Let me get my jacket and my coffee,” John said. “We’ll be right there.”  
  
Cartwright smiled knowingly and nodded. “I’ll wait.”  
  
John turned and hurried back toward the kitchen. His jacket was draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He shrugged it on, let Rodney straighten his tie.  
  
“Dammit,” John said. “O’Neill’s on to me.”  
  
“On to you how?” Rodney asked, batting John’s hands aside when he tried to help straighten the tie.  
  
“I’d arranged with some of the airmen to have a disaster in the middle of our interview. I thought they were loyal to me. I brought them pizza on the regular.”  
  
“Turns out they’re more loyal to O’Neill,” Rodney said. He sighed. He hadn’t planned on doing an interview, and he wasn’t dressed nicely at all. He’d dressed professionally of course, but he hadn’t anticipated an interview. Would there be pictures? He didn’t want pictures taken.  
  
John kissed Rodney briefly and took a deep breath. “I let a Wraith feed off me one time. I can face down a reporter.”  
  
And then they were out the door and following Cartwright to the car. She sat in front with the driver, a young, fresh-faced airman who looked like he didn’t even shave every day, and Rodney and John sat at the back.  
  
“Where is the interview taking place?” Rodney asked.  
  
“O’Neill arranged for a space to be set aside near Colonel Sheppard’s office,” Cartwright said.  
  
They made it to the Pentagon in good time, went through security like normal, but instead of separating at the elevators, they all rode up to John’s office. O’Neill was standing outside of John’s office wearing a knowing expression that wasn’t quite a smirk.  
  
“Good morning, Colonel,” he said to John. “Doctor. Lieutenant Colonel.”  
  
“Sir,” Cartwright said.  
  
O’Neill gestured to the conference room beside John’s office and said, “Enjoy, boys.”  
  
“You have a strange definition of enjoyment,” Rodney said.  
  
O’Neill’s expression turned into a smirk, but then Cartwright was leading them into the conference room and Rodney was steeling himself for the interrogation of a lifetime.  
  
The reporter was an attractive young woman with short, stylishly spiky blonde hair. According to her press badge, her name was Chloe Sullivan. Rodney had expected someone older to be covering this high-profile a story, but in the end he thought maybe a younger, more inexperienced reporter would be nicer to them, less intrusive and harsh.  
  
She introduced herself, had a confident handshake. Her photographer, Jimmy, would be by halfway through the interview for some photos, but in the meantime, it was just the three of them. General O’Neill had arranged for them to have any snacks they wanted, was just a phone call away. In the meantime, did they mind if she recorded them? She had a little camera that looked no bigger than a box of cigarettes.  
  
“Not at all,” John said, smiling, and Rodney recognized that effusive charm, the mask he wore when he was dealing with Nancy in public.  
  
Chloe nodded, and Rodney saw steel in her eyes. She knew John was on the defensive. Rodney braced himself for a battle of words and manners.  
  
“So, we’re coming up on the one-year anniversary of the Supreme Court’s landmark decision that Unmarked persons can enter into a match. It’s been a historic year, with sweeping legal reforms made to close antiquated loopholes that allowed for inhumane treatment of the Unmarked. Everyone knows about your legal battle, the way the both of you pitched in to help then-Major Cartwright argue your case.”  
  
“Pitched in? I feel like I earned myself a law degree, thanks,” John said, and Cartwright laughed. They’d spent long hours and late nights locked in the legal section of the SGC’s base archive, had become good friends.  
  
Chloe smiled. “I’ll bet. What I’m curious about, though, is where this determination to fight for yourself as one of the Unmarked came from. I can’t imagine that all of that fervor came out of nowhere.”  
  
“It began with my mother,” John said. “Like me, she was Unmarked.”  
  
“Not to sound Freudian, but tell me more about your mother.”  
  
John’s gaze went distant. “She was wonderful. Kind. Understanding. I spent my entire childhood convinced I was - defective, or something, because I had no Mark. And then one day a Mark started coming in. My first crush. And I went to her, because I was confused and afraid, but she told me there was nothing wrong, was supportive of the fact that my first crush was another boy.”  
  
Cartwright raised her eyebrows. “Now, this is a part of the story I never heard. Do tell. Your first crush?”  
  
“Do tell,” Rodney said flatly.  
  
“There was this boy - a science advisor for the upper classes. I was fourteen, so he was about - sixteen? He had blond hair and blue eyes,” John said, and his defensive veneer was thinning while he wandered down memory lane.  
  
“A science advisor? What does that mean?” Chloe asked.  
  
“Why, are you going to track him down?” Rodney raised his eyebrows. “It was just a crush.”  
  
John missed that barbed exchange completely. “The Mark never came in completely. It was always kind of fuzzy and vague, and then he went back to wherever he came from.”  
  
Rodney cast John a sidelong glance. “I was a science advisor at an American school, once. My first year of college. I was basically a teacher’s aide in the science labs of a fancy private school.”  
  
“What high school?” Chloe asked. “For biographical purposes, of course.”  
  
Rodney wracked his memory. He hadn’t much enjoyed the experience. “A private school in Virginia whose uniforms made the little singing boys on _Glee_ look positively butch.”  
  
John straightened up, eyes wide. “Wait. You? But he was only, like, sixteen.”  
  
“I’m a genius. I started college early,” Rodney said automatically, and then realized what John had said. “Hang on, you mean that was your school?”  
  
John lifted a hand to his wrist. “I remember. The Mark came in kind of circular, but it was always indistinct. I never had any classes with you. I -”  
  
“You’re kidding,” Cartwright said. She grinned at Chloe. “Pretty sure there’s a joke in there about things being full circle.”  
  
It was Chloe’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “How so?”  
  
The specifics of the Mark had never been publicized, though the image had been disclosed to certain judges for consideration. The only comment in the written decision about the appearance of the Mark was that is was Rare.  
  
“Our Marks,” Rodney said. “They’re circular.”  
  
“Oh! Then there is some poetry in saying that your story has come full circle.” Chloe smiled.  
  
“What are the chances?” John asked. “That it was you who -”  
  
“You’re the mathematician,” Rodney said. “You’d know better than I would.”  
  
“Well, this interview took a startling turn.” Chloe cleared her throat. Before she could redirect them to her planned questions, there was a knock at the door.  
  
“Come in,” John said.  
  
A young airman poked her head into the office. “Sir,” she said, “there’s a call for you.”  
  
John lit up. He rose to his feet, mouthed _pizza_ at Rodney, and said, “I’ll be right there.”  
  
Chloe sighed. “General O’Neill promised me at least an hour uninterrupted.”  
  
The airman said, “General O’Neill told me to tell you they’re here ahead of schedule. He’s asking you to assist with defense platforms. He says Woolsey’s commander is still en route.”  
  
Woolsey had taken command of Atlantis after Sam’s one-year stint there. The poor oblivious airman could only mean one thing. The Wraith had come to Earth. And Evan was on his way.  
  
Cartwright rose to her feet as well, pale. “Do I need to go back to the Mountain? I -”  
  
“Sir, please,” the airman said, looking nervous.  
  
“I’m sorry,” John said to Chloe. “This is a matter of national security. Cartwright, you’re with me. Rodney - call Grant and Nancy. Get Jason from school. You know what to do.”  
  
Rodney nodded, pushed himself to his feet. “Call me, okay? If you need me -”  
  
John crossed the room, pulled Rodney in for a brief kiss. “I’ll be in touch, one way or another. Now go.”  
  
Rodney patted down his pockets, but he had no keys. He had to get home and grab the go bags. Where was his Metro pass? No, he’d ask for a driver and car from the motor pool.  
  
“Wait,” Chloe protested, but John and Cartwright were gone.  
  
Rodney turned to her and said, “You might want to connect with your family, just in case.”  
  
“Just in case of what?”  
  
“That’s classified.”

 

*

  
John went to O’Neill’s office, but he was on the phone. Landry was in O’Neill’s office too, and the place filled up quickly with other high-ranking Air Force and IOA and Homeworld Sec officials.  
  
O’Neill gestured for John and Cartwright to enter, still speaking on the phone.  
  
“Yes, he’s here. We’ll get him shipped out immediately. We’ll send her back to the Mountain to help coordinate evac to Alpha Site.”  
  
John glanced at Cartwright. She was pale.  
  
O’Neill hung up.  
  
“Sir?” John asked, quelling the urgency in his tone and aiming for deferential. Apparently he didn’t quite land on deferential enough, because several generals turned and glared at him.  
  
“We need you to man the Ancient Weapons Platform,” O’Neill said. “Get to the roof. A chopper’s waiting to take you to transport.”  
  
“The Hive wasn’t supposed to be here for weeks.” John curled his hands into fists and kept his posture upright and textbook perfect.  
  
“Apparently they were further along with their ZPM upgrades than anyone on Atlantis knew.” O’Neill nodded at Cartwright. “We’re sending you back to Cheyenne, Colonel.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“Dismissed.”  
  
Cartwright saluted and then left the room, presumably to catch her ride.  
  
“It’ll take forever for me to get to Antarctica,” John said. “Can’t you beam me there?”  
  
“The Chair was moved to Area 51,” O’Neill said. “Apparently it violated some kind of treaty even though it was there long before the treaty, so to Nevada you go.”  
  
That was a much shorter journey. John uncurled his fists, tried to calm his breathing. “Sir, my family -”  
  
“Your designated relatives are on the appropriate list and will be taken care of as necessary,” Landry said. “Now go, Sheppard.”  
  
John nodded, was dismissed, and made it out the door in a manner befitting an officer before he broke into a run.  
  
The kid flying the chopper that landed on the roof to take John to the airfield to get on a transport plane looked barely old enough to drive. John itched to take the controls from him. Instead he called Rodney. The call went straight to voicemail, so John left him a soft ‘I love you’ and then sent a text message. _Sit rep?_ He checked his phone compulsively like a teenage girl waiting to hear back from her first crush, but there was no response by the time he made it to the airfield. He was shuffled out of his dress blues and into BDUs - the olive kind favored by the SGC - and shoved onto a cargo plane loaded with scientists and IOA dignitaries. As soon as Atlantis had sent word that a Hive ship was coming to Earth, the IOA had scrambled into action, designating who got evacuated and who got sent to a secure site on Earth. Area 51 was one of those secure sites.  
  
Besides the lockdown rooms in all of the major government buildings - Pentagon, White House, Capitol, Supreme Court - there was a civilian lock-down space too, for the relatives of important officials.  
  
It was like a bad armageddon film: who lives and who dies? Who’s protected and who’s left on the streets as cannon fodder?  
  
John couldn’t think like that. He had to be ready to go to war against a Hive ship. Apart from occasional duty as a human light switch, he hadn’t interacted much with Ancient tech. He missed Holland’s good luck charm fiercely. He wondered if Jason had it with him right this second, if it was keeping his hands warm like it had done for John on cold desert nights in Afghanistan, if Jason was scared about being pulled out of school and taken to some cement bunker with Rodney and Nancy and Grant.  
  
The scientists were huddled together on one side of the plane, peering at one woman’s datapad and having a murmured conversation about what was on it. The soldiers were clearly seasoned enough to get sleep when they could, and they were all dozing, heads tipped back or chins to their chests, eyes closed, twitching in dreams.  
  
John wished he could close his eyes and sleep, but he wanted to know. Were Rodney and Jason all right?  
  
The cargo plane landed at Area 51 after what felt like forever but was only seven hours. As soon as it touched down, John’s cell phone buzzed.  
  
_Safe in the bunker,_ Rodney had written. He’d also sent along a picture of Jason, sitting on a bunk, Nancy and Grant beside him, while he cradled Holland’s good luck charm and lit it up. Jason was still wearing his school uniform, had his little Star Trek backpack at his feet.  
  
The tight ball of worry in John’s chest began to loosen. Good. The IOA’s evac and preserve plans had progressed far enough that Grant and Nancy could also be in the bunker. Originally John had been given two spots to fill, with a couple of back-up spots as invasion preparations progressed. He hoped Dave and Kathy and the girls had made it to their bunker too.  
  
_Safe at A51,_ John wrote back. _On my way to the Chair. Love you._  
  
A flurry of scientists greeted him, all white coats and SGC uniforms.  
  
“Where’s Carter?” John asked.  
  
“At the Mountain,” Bill Lee said. “She has temporary command while Landry heads the task force in DC.” He led John through the cement corridors - every government installation had the same cement corridors, exposed pipes, and colored guidelines - to the room where the control chair was waiting.  
  
“We only have so much power in the ZPM,” Bill said, “but if you need to familiarize yourself with its controls - I know it’s been a few years since you -”  
  
“If you have any Ancient tech kicking around that I can initiate, work with, that’ll be fine. The more complex, the better.” John flashed Bill a smile in an effort to set him at ease.  
  
“Great! Uh - Kipplinger, bring me the Ancient baby monitor.” Bill gestured for some skinny, bespectacled girl who looked like she was barely out of high school. Everyone looked like kids these days.  
  
She bustled across the room and rooted through a cabinet, came up with some kind of giant silver box with blue inlays, similar to the ones on the Chair. She handed it to John, and it hummed in his hands, lit up.  
  
He felt it in his mind as soon as it turned on, and he was flooded with information.  
  
_Heart rate. Breathing. Oxygen. Activity. Sleep. Blood pressure. Cholesterol levels. Steroid levels. Signs of viral infection. Signs of bacterial infection. Zero. Zero. Zero. Zero. Where was the baby?_  
  
“You all right, Colonel?” Kipplinger asked in a small voice.  
  
John blinked, shook himself out of the information stream. “Yeah, sorry. I just - it’s been a while.”  
  
Kipplinger worried her bottom lip.  
  
“I’ve got this,” John said. He reached back into the information stream, and he began to direct it. Toward Kipplinger, for now. The system freaked out - too big, too heavy, hormones all over the place, stress stress stress, but it was working, and it was doing what he wanted it to, and that was what mattered.  
  
Kipplinger relaxed as by increments as she brought John more and more Ancient devices to initiate and activate. She had some kind of interactive rolling ball that was mind-controlled, displayed colors and played snippets of songs, some kind of child’s toy.  
  
“This is incredible,” she said, handing him another device (which turned out to be some kind of Ancient ironing board, with settings for starchiness and even added scents). “There are so many devices we have that we don’t really understand and that the expedition doesn’t have time to analyze, and no one who can use them.” She beamed at John, and he smiled at her in return. He recognized the light in her eyes. Rodney got the same look on his face when he was confronted with a shiny new piece of alien tech.  
  
Rodney.  
  
John fired up his cell phone - most people’s cell phones were confiscated at security to avoid information breaches, but he was John Sheppard, walking ATA gene, and he was going to save them from the Wraith. He wondered how many of these scientists knew how many times he’d already saved them from the Wraith, on the front lines in the Pegasus Galaxy. He wondered how many more times Earth had been saved without him knowing about it.  
  
He sent a text message to Rodney. _I love you._  
  
All around him, sirens began to wail.

*

“Rodney?” Jason hopped up off of his chair and darted across the classroom, heedless of Miss Melwani’s instruction to remain at his desk. “Where’s Daddy? Do I get a day off?” His eyes lit up.  
  
Rodney looked around at all of the other little children in the classroom, working industriously at their desks, and his throat closed. But he had to make this good, because Jason was perceptive to the moods of the adults around him. He knelt down and smiled.  
  
“Yes, you get a day off. Daddy’s working, but Mommy and Grant are going to come with us, okay?”  
  
“Yay!” Jason skipped back to his desk, grabbed his blazer off the back of his chair, and then ran to get his backpack.  
  
“Dr. McKay,” Miss Melwani said, “this is highly irregular. He’s not sick and we weren’t notified of any appointments.”  
  
“Last minute change of plans,” Rodney said. He dared her to question him further, because he had just as much right to check Jason out of school as Grant or Nancy or John did. Miss Melwani pressed her lips into a thin, disapproving line.  
  
“Tell you what,” Rodney said, “if the world is still standing tomorrow, he’ll be at school on time.”  
  
Miss Melwani looked confused, but then Jason was at Rodney’s side, offering up a hand to be held while they walked to Rodney’s car.  
  
“Where are we going?” Jason asked. He buckled himself into the back seat, and once Rodney was confident he was buckled in properly, he slid behind the wheel.  
  
“It’s a surprise,” Rodney said.  
  
There was a pause, and then Jason said, “You don’t know, do you?”  
  
“I do know,” Rodney said, in the sense that he knew they were going somewhere safe, but he’d never actually been there before, hadn’t anticipated needing to be there for several weeks, hadn’t had a chance to do test drives and figure out all the best routes in the event of mass panic and gridlocked traffic or locked down public transport.  
  
“I don’t believe you.”  
  
“You don’t have to, you just have to sit where you are and not mess with your seatbelt.” Rodney drove to United States Attorney’s office where Grant worked. The guard at the gate recognized Rodney, grinned at Jason and said, “Hey, big guy!” Jason gave the man an air hi-five, grinning, and his grin was just like John’s.  
  
Jason, clinging to Rodney’s hand (not because he was a baby but because he was supposed to be safe at all times), led the way to the reception desk. When Rodney asked for Grant Sherman, the receptionist, a girl who looked barely older than twenty, looked suspicious, but when Jason poked his spiky-haired head up over the desk and said, seriously, “We’d like to speak to Assistant US Attorney Grant Sherman,” she smiled and ruffled his hair and said, “Hey, Jason, I’ll get right on that.”  
  
She picked up her phone, dialed, and said, very solemn, “Mr. Sherman, a Mr. Jason Sheppard is here to see you. With his, er, manny.”  
  
Rodney glared at her, but it didn’t last long because Jason collapsed into giggles.  
  
Grant came flying out of his office, shirtsleeves rolled up, tie askew. “Jason! Did you convince some homeless man to pose as your manny to get you checked out of school? Because - oh. Rodney. Hello.”  
  
“Hello,” Rodney said flatly. Had Jason convinced strangers to pose as his manny to get him checked out of school before? He’d have to follow up on that later.  
  
Grant looked very frazzled. “What’s going on? Why’d you take Jason out of school? Is he sick? He doesn’t look sick.”  
  
Rodney said, “You need to cancel all your appointments for the rest of the day. Remember a few weeks ago, we spoke about that vacation we were going to take? The camping trip?”  
  
Grant looked confused for a second, a second too long, because Jason narrowed his eyes at his stepfather, but then Grant nodded. “Yes. Of course. Nancy and I have our bags packed and everything.”  
  
“Good! Because we’re going on that camping trip a little early. Come with us. We’ll swing by your house to grab your camping gear, and then we’ll go get Nancy, all right?”  
  
“Right.” Grant swallowed hard.  
  
“Your calendar’s pretty much empty for the rest of the day, but tomorrow you’ll have that deposition,” the girl began.  
  
“Have Huang cover for me,” Grant said. “She owes me.” He held out a hand to Jason, who immediately took it (but he didn’t let go of Rodney’s hand either). “Let’s go camping, shall we?”  
  
“Sure,” Jason said, with John Sheppard’s dry skepticism. “Let’s go camping.”  
  
Rodney’s clearance got all three of them far enough into the Pentagon to speak to a serious-looking secretary in Homeland Security. She called for Nancy, who came striding into the reception area in clicking heels, looking every inch the Capitol Hill power broker in a sleek black dress suit and white pearls.  
  
“Grant, Rodney. Hey, baby.” She crouched down and pulled Jason into a hug, kissed him on the cheek. Then she straightened up. “What’s going on?”  
  
“We’re going camping,” Jason said.  
  
Nancy caught on immediately. “Oh, we moved the date for that up? I hadn’t heard.”  
  
“Just barely found out myself.” Rodney smiled tightly. “John had to work, so it’s just us for now, but I’m sure he’ll catch up with us when he’s done with his assignment.”  
  
Nancy turned and spoke quickly to the receptionist, who nodded smartly and said, “Yes, ma’am.” Then Nancy went back to her office to grab her jacket and briefcase, and they were off.  
  
An airman caught them in the lobby. “Dr. McKay!”  
  
Rodney paused, turned.  
  
The airman held out a sealed envelope. “General O’Neill said to deliver this personally.”  
  
Rodney accepted it. “Thank you.”  
  
The airman nodded and then darted away.  
  
Nancy was fairly high-ranking in Homeland Security, but Homeworld Security was its own special branch of classified, and everyone eyed the folks from Rodney’s section of the building with skepticism. She cast Rodney a look full of questions, but she said nothing. She’d accepted John and Rodney’s request to go along with the safehouse scheme with aplomb, because her work was often classified as well, but she didn’t like being kept in the dark. Grant, whose work could be described as confidential at best, was often frustrated at the way John, Rodney, and Nancy could talk around things, have conversations without ever really saying a thing.  
  
Grant had looked a little betrayed when Nancy said to John, “I’m sorry for all those times you said your work was classified and I misunderstood. I understand now.”  
  
Jason had a go bag at both of his homes just to be safe, because there was no knowing which house he’d be in when the Wraith arrived. He ran upstairs and scooped up his special Star Trek backpack (his fancy school even had uniform backpacks, which led to a lot of mistakenly swapped backpacks at the end of the day), and came downstairs. Grant and Nancy changed into comfortable clothes and grabbed their go bags, and then it was time to leave.  
  
Nancy sat in the back with Jason to distract him while Rodney tore through the bunker packet the airman had given him. It had directions to the bunker and passes. Rodney handed the directions to Grant.  
  
“Navigate, please.”  
  
“Sure thing.”  
  
Traffic was normal, the streets looked normal, everything looked normal. Rodney knew it must have been like this all the time when he was at the SGC or in Atlantis, people grocery shopping and strolling hand-in-hand through the park or skateboarding, completely oblivious to the fact that hostile alien forces bent on destroying Earth were only a heartbeat away, that the only thing that stood between Earth and total death was the bravery of a few soldiers (scientists, friendly aliens, madmen every one of them).  
  
Grant read the directions to Rodney, because trying to program them into the map app on either of their phones had failed (Google didn’t know everything, not the things the IOA didn’t want it to know), and when they reached the safe house, it looked like...a house. On the outskirts of the city. It had a broad, expansive lawn, well-manicured gardens. Looked like something historical.  
  
“Are we going to camp on the grass?” Jason asked.  
  
“We’ll have to see where they say our campground is,” Nancy said, and cast Rodney a look. The camping ruse wasn’t going to last much longer.  
  
The parking lot in front of the house was crowded, but the place looked deserted. Surely someone would find that suspicious. But they grabbed their bags and headed up the porch and rang the doorbell.  
  
The young man who answered wore jeans and a t-shirt and was built like a Marine, had the haircut to match.  
  
“Passes,” he said.  
  
Rodney held out the packet. The Marine rifled through it, then consulted something just out of sight inside the house.  
  
“I have passes for Rodney McKay and Jason Sheppard, on account of Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard,” he said.  
  
“I am Rodney McKay, John Sheppard’s husband, and Jason Sheppard is his son,” Rodney said. His throat closed. The Wraith had come too soon. There weren’t enough bunkers for everyone on the selection lists yet. John had insisted on Jason and Rodney being priority. “Nancy Sherman is Jason’s mother, and Grant Sherman is her husband.”  
  
“Doctor McKay,” the Marine began.  
  
Rodney caught Jason by the shoulder and tugged him forward, pushed him toward the Marine. “Marine, are you going to tell this boy that his mother and stepfather cannot come with him?”  
  
Rodney squeezed Jason’s shoulder pointedly, and thank Newton the kid was smart, because he immediately dipped his chin, let his lower lip tremble and his eyes fill with tears.  
  
The Marine balked. “Doctor McKay, I have orders -”  
  
“To keep Colonel Sheppard’s family safe while he serves his country,” Rodney said.  
  
“Pwease?” Jason asked, and he broke out the lisp, which his speech therapist was constantly on him about; the Marine flinched.  
  
Jason let a couple of tears fall. The kid deserved an Oscar.  
  
“Sir,” the Marine said, aggrieved, and then a uniformed woman appeared. Bronze oak leaves on her shoulders, blue uniform.  
  
“Doctor Rodney McKay?” she asked. Haworth, her name tag read. She was tall and pale, about a foot taller than the Marine. “We need you in the control room immediately.”  
  
“Ma’am,” the Marine said, “what about -?”  
  
“I’m going with this nice Major,” Rodney said. “So you take Jason and give my spot to his mother and so help me -”  
  
“Let them through, Private.” Major Haworth pulled the door open wider and invited them to enter. “With me, Doctor McKay. You can check on your family later.”  
  
“I’ll make sure my family is situated,” Rodney said firmly. “And then I will assist you.”  
  
Haworth’s eyes flashed. “Doctor -”  
  
“If someone other than me is capable of doing what you want, call them.” Jeannie could probably do what the woman wanted, but she and her family were likely being rounded up by the Canadian arm of the IOA for Jeannie to assist in planetary defense. Rodney had never been so glad when Jeannie told him she’d been given enough bunker passes for Madison and Kaleb in addition to her own pass for her work.  
  
Haworth raised her eyebrows.  
  
Rodney lifted his chin, dared her to start a scene in front of Nancy and Grant, who had no clearance. He’d faced down Wraith. Major Haworth was just a human.  
  
“Fine,” she said. “Private, make sure Doctor McKay and his family make it to the appropriate quarters.”  
  
The Marine reached for the radio that was on his little desk just inside the doorway, and then another Marine appeared, led them into the kitchen, through an honest-to-goodness trap door in the floor, and down into a massive cement bunker. There were corridors branching off on all sides, but most important were the bathrooms, showers, a mess hall, and rows upon rows of bunks.  
  
“We’re not really going camping, are we?” Jason asked. He curled his hand through Nancy’s and clung to her side.  
  
“No,” Rodney said. “We’re doing something top secret, but we couldn’t talk about it in front of people who aren’t allowed to know.”  
  
Jason’s eyes lit up. “Top secret? Like my night light?” He reached into his pocket and drew out the small irregular crystal that usually sat on John’s desk, discovered in the sands of Afghanistan by the fallen Captain Holland and given to John as a good luck charm. Jason held up the crystal, and it blazed Ancient blue.  
  
“Yes,” Rodney said. “Like your night light.”  
  
“Can you make it light up?” Jason asked.  
  
“Not as well as you and Daddy can.” Rodney patted his shoulder. The Marine led them into one of the bunk rooms. It looked like a military barrack.  
  
Jason frowned. “Can’t I just sleep in a sleeping bag?”  
  
“You can have a bottom bunk, sweetie,” Nancy said.  
  
Grant eyed the room. “Why don’t we push a couple of bunks together? That way it’ll be just our space. And we can use the blankets to turn it into a fort.”  
  
Jason pursed his lips, eyeing the bunks. Then he nodded. “Okay! But I wanna sleep on the bottom bunk with Daddy and Rodney.”  
  
“Really? Why?” Grant asked. He nodded for Rodney, and together the two of them pushed a couple of bunks together.  
  
“Because soldiers are better at bunking rough than civilians.” Jason put down his backpack, put his shoulder to the bed frame to ‘help’ Rodney push.  
  
Nancy laughed. “Who told you that?”  
  
“Uncle Ronon.” Jason had met Uncle Ronon at Grandpa Sheppard’s funeral last year and adored him instantly, had spent a good chunk of the proceedings riding around on Ronon’s shoulders and asking him incessant questions about what John was like when he was Ronon’s boss.  
  
Once the bunks were together, Grant and Nancy set about helping Jason turn them into a giant blanket fort, and then they huddled together inside with John’s ‘night light’ to assist them.  
  
Rodney’s phone pinged with an incoming text from John.  
  
_Sit rep?_  
  
Rodney snapped a picture of Jason, Nancy, and Grant, and sent it to John with assurances that they were fine.  
  
And then Major Haworth appeared in the doorway and summoned Rodney away.  
  
“I have my phone,” he said to Grant, who nodded, then asked Jason to show Nancy how his special toy lit up at a thought.  
  
Haworth led Rodney through a door that looked just like all the other doors, except this one led to the control hub for the safe house, filled with a generator, computer monitors, and telephones.  
  
One of the computer monitors had a video link set up to the SGC.  
  
“Rodney.” Samantha Carter waved as soon as she saw him.  
  
“Sam. What can I do for you?”  
  
“We’re refitting some 302s with nukes to target the Hive ship while it’s still in orbit around the moon,” she said. “I need your help running calculations while I -”  
  
“Do soldier things. Right. What do you need to find out?”  
  
The computer beeped. “I sent you an email with numbers of our available nukes and the number of 302s. You have a better sense of Wraith shield capabilities, and you worked with Zelenka to calculate the changes with the ZPM upgrades.”  
  
Rodney sat down in front of the computer and fired up his email, which opened on a separate monitor. “Some good Zelenka’s calculations were. The Wraith were supposed to be weeks away.”  
  
“Rodney -”  
  
“Yes, yes, I’ll figure it out.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You, get me a paper and pen and a decent calculator.”  
  
“We don’t have any calculators,” Haworth said.  
  
“Do you have an abacus?”  
  
“This is a residential safe house, not a science lab -”  
  
“Go get my stepson, then.”  
  
“Doctor, this is classified -”  
  
“Do it!”  
  
Sam raised her eyebrows. “Really?”  
  
“He’s John’s son,” Rodney said. When he’d finally realized just how dumb John played for the sake of fitting in as a soldier, he’d wanted to hit something, but he knew John’s desire to fit in was more than a petty love of being popular; it was born out of a deeper, darker need to not be singled out, not be scrutinized too closely for being different.  
  
“Do it, Major,” Sam said.  
  
Haworth pursed her lips sourly but nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She departed, returned a few moments later with Jason and Nancy in tow.  
  
“Cool!” Jason bounced onto the spinning chair beside Rodney’s. “Is this all top secret?”  
  
“Very,” Rodney said. He’d found a notepad and a couple of pens himself, was drafting up equations to figure out the power requirements for getting past the shield and blowing the Hive to smithereens, as well as the possibility of nuking the moon and ruining the tides on Earth were such an explosion to succeed.  
  
“You must be Jason,” Sam said.  
  
Jason immediately peered closer at the computer monitor.  
  
“Careful,” Nancy said. “You don’t want her to have to look up your nose.”  
  
Jason tilted his head back so Sam could see up his nose.  
  
“Jason,” Nancy admonished, and he sighed, rearranged himself so he was sitting neatly on the chair.  
  
“Hello, blonde lady,” Jason said.  
  
“Jason, this is Colonel Samantha Carter. She works with Daddy,” Rodney said, and added, for security’s sake, “and Sam, this is Nancy, Jason’s mother.”  
  
“Hi Colonel Carter.” Jason waved. “Where are you?”  
  
“At an Air Force Base,” Sam said.  
  
“Is Daddy with you?”  
  
“No, he’s somewhere else.” Sam smiled politely. “Hello again, Nancy.”  
  
Rodney lifted his head, startled. He hadn’t realized they already knew each other.  
  
“Been a long time, Sam.” Nancy inclined her head respectfully. “Now, what did you need Jason for?”  
  
Rodney turned his notepad around and pushed it toward Jason. “Hey buddy, can you solve for this number here?”  
  
Jason licked his lips thoughtfully, then picked up the other pen. “Uh-huh. What are we doing?”  
  
“Playing a game,” Rodney said. “Sam didn’t want us to be too bored while we waited for Daddy.”  
  
“What kind of game?”  
  
“You know how you and Daddy and I play math games?”  
  
Jason nodded, bent over the notepad and writing his numbers very carefully.  
  
“Well, it’s like that,” Rodney said. He showed Jason the rough diagram he’d drawn of the moon, the Hive, and Earth. “It’s kind of a three-body problem. This mass is orbiting this mass, and both of them are orbiting this mass. How much force would it take to push this mass -” the Hive - “out of the orbit of this mass -” the moon - “so it can be destroyed without destroying the second mass or disrupting its orbit?”  
  
Sam raised her eyebrows, but Jason studied the diagram for a moment and said, “Okay.”  
  
Nancy had never really been around when Jason, Rodney, and John played math games, and her eyes were wide.  
  
Sam, though, looked delighted and a little amused. “Looks like you’ve got things under control, Rodney. Email me when you have numbers. Time is of the essence.”  
  
“Hear that, Jason? It’s a race.”  
  
“What’s the prize?” Jason asked.  
  
Rodney glanced at Sam, raised his eyebrows. She had nieces and nephews. Surely she knew how to negotiate with children.  
  
Sam said, “You can ride in a fighter jet with your dad when his work is done.”  
  
Nancy made a choking noise, which she quickly smothered when Jason turned to look at her expectantly. “That’ll be fun, won’t it, honey?”  
  
“Awesome!” And Jason set to his math with aplomb.  
  
The connection cut, and the three of them were left in companionable silence, Jason and Rodney calculating industriously, a Marine watching from the doorway. Nancy sank down into one of the other chairs and poked at her phone, probably trading text messages with Grant or checking work emails, pointless though they may have been.  
  
The Marine inquired whether they wanted anything to eat or drink.  
  
“Coffee,” Rodney said.  
  
“Me too, please,” Jason said.  
  
“Chocolate milk for Jason,” Nancy said, casting Jason a look. He just grinned cheekily and kept on writing. “Also sandwiches for everyone. Make sure Doctor McKay’s food is non-citrus. He’s allergic.”  
  
The Marine nodded and hurried away.  
  
He returned fifteen minutes later with little pre-packaged sandwiches, coffee for Rodney, a bottle of water for Nancy, and a carton of chocolate milk for Jason.  
  
Nancy and Rodney both had to pry Jason’s notepad away from him to get him to stop working long enough to eat. Eventually Nancy was satisfied that Rodney didn’t have Jason doing anything dangerous - or was just so bored - that she left Jason in Rodney’s hands (and under the watchful eye of the Marine) and went back to Grant.  
  
Jason charged his way through his calculations, and when he was finished, he raised both fists in the air and did a victory lap around the room. Rodney was exhausted just looking at him, but he pulled Jason’s notepad close, checked through his work, and began incorporating it into his own.  
  
Jason resumed his chair, spinning around on it till he was dizzy, then ‘unwinding’ by spinning the other way, waiting for Rodney to finish.  
  
“Let me check it,” Jason was saying, just as Nancy and Grant re-entered the room. The Marine tried to stop Grant, but Jason waved at him. The Marine sighed and relented - and it should have been frightening, how quickly members of America’s elite armed forces capitulated to a child (a very cute child) so easily - and Grant and Nancy sat down and watched as Jason pored over Rodney’s math.  
  
“I think you forgot to carry the two here,” Jason said, pointing.  
  
Rodney bit back his reflexive response, _No I didn’t,_ and leaned in to see. “Maybe. Hang on. I thought I carried it - there.”  
  
“Oh. Yeah. Your handwriting’s just kind of messy.”  
  
Grant hid a smile behind one hand. Rodney shrugged.  
  
Jason traced a tiny finger down the page, brow furrowed in concentration. Finally he said, “Okay, looks good.”  
  
“All right! Let’s send this off.” Rodney fired up his email and sent off the calculations to Sam. A few moments later, he received a return email from a Dr. F. McAllister, who had questions about some of the equations.  
  
“Ooh, let me!” Jason scrambled onto Rodney’s lap and reached for the keyboard.  
  
“Easy,” Rodney said, catching his wrists before he could type a response that involved too many exclamation points and smiley emoticons. “Remember the first rule of science? Understand the problem. Read it to me.”  
  
Jason read the email aloud, stumbling over some of the words. Apparently Sam had warned this Dr. McAllister about Jason’s involvement, because there was no mention of warheads, nukes, aliens, Hive ships, or Wraith, just the same vague designations Rodney had used in designing the problem.  
  
“Dr. McAllister’s not very smart, is he?” Jason said when he was finished.  
  
“Jason! That’s rude,” Nancy said, and Jason ducked his head, murmured an apology.  
  
“Dr. McAllister is probably in a bit of a hurry to win the race,” Rodney said. “Now, if you think you can answer politely, you may.”  
  
Grant emitted a sound like a muffled snort, and Nancy cast him a look. Rodney resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, he knew how that sounded, coming from him, but he wasn’t about to pass on his bad habits to Jason.  
  
Before Jason could lunge at the keyboard and start inflicting his smiley emoticons on the SGC, the connection on the other monitor blinked to life.  
  
“Rodney?”  
  
Jason leaped onto the other chair with the agility of a monkey and scrambled to get close to the monitor. “Uncle Evan!”  
  
Rodney realized two things immediately. One: Evan was wearing his combat flight suit. Two: the bustling behind Evan was no longer Sam’s office or lab or wherever but the inside of a flight hangar with 302s in the background. 302s were classified.  
  
Nancy narrowed her eyes, studying them.  
  
“Hey, Jason. How are you?” Evan smiled, all bright eyes and dimples, but there was strain at the edges of his expression.  
  
“Great!” Jason bounced in his seat. “Rodney and I are playing math games from Colonel Carter so we don’t get bored.”  
  
Behind Evan, engineers were scrambling to fit the 302s with nukes. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”  
  
“Evan,” Rodney said. “You’re back from your posting early. Who’s, er, steering things without you?”  
  
“Major Teldy’s in command while I’m...here. And Carson is piloting the ship back for us. It should be here soon.”  
  
“Where’s Uncle Ronon?” Jason asked.  
  
“He’s back with Major Teldy, doing soldier things,” Evan said.  
  
“Are you gonna fly one of those jets?”  
  
Evan nodded. “I am.”  
  
“Do they go super fast?”  
  
“They do.”  
  
“Colonel Carter said Daddy would take me flying in a fighter jet if I won the math race. Do you think we could fly in one of those jets?”  
  
“I don’t know if that’s allowed.”  
  
“Can Daddy fly one of those jets?”  
  
“He does know how, yes.”  
  
Major Haworth appeared in the doorway.  
  
“Ma’am,” she said to Nancy. “Other families are arriving. Some of them have children. Your boy might appreciate some company his own age.”  
  
Nancy looked torn between staying and listening to Rodney and Evan and taking Jason far, far away from this madness.  
  
“Oh, hey Nancy.” Evan smiled and waved at her. “Didn’t realize you were there.” And then he shot Rodney a look. _Does she have clearance?_  
  
“Hello again, Evan.” Nancy hadn’t been completely conscious during her treatments with Vala and Evan at the hospital, but she and Grant had taken them out for dinner afterwards to say thank you. Nancy reached out, ruffled Jason’s hair. “Hey sweetie, there are some other kids here now. Want to go play?”  
  
“I wanna stay and hang out with Uncle Evan.”  
  
Grant moved to help Nancy. “I’m sure Uncle Evan has soldier things he needs to do.”  
  
“Colonel,” someone said, and Evan turned away from the camera to speak to a technician. Perfect timing.  
  
“Go have fun, kiddo,” Rodney said. “I’ll let you know when I find out who won the race, okay?”  
  
“Okay.” Jason wrapped his arms around Rodney’s neck for a hug and a kiss, and then he followed Grant and Nancy out of the room.  
  
Rodney scooted closer to the monitor with the camera and video conferencing display, but before he could get Evan’s attention, a woman with dark hair and wide eyes and wearing a technician uniform popped up.  
  
“Hey, Dr. McKay, I’m Dr. McAllister! Thanks for getting those calculations to us so quickly. We’re just about done with the 302 retrofit.”  
  
“Is Colonel Lorne leading the attack against the Hive?” Rodney asked.  
  
Dr. McAllister nodded. “Yes. With Colonel Sheppard operating the chair out of Area 51, everything should be fine. As soon as the Hive is out of the moon’s orbit and destroying it won’t negatively affect the moon, Colonel Sheppard can take the Hive out with the Chair.”  
  
Behind Dr. McAllister, Evan went to climb into the cockpit of his 302, but then Sam and Major Davis appeared. Rodney strained to hear what they were saying over Dr. McAllister’s cheerful chatter.  
  
“ - Detected an inbound wave of darts,” Sam was saying.  
  
“ - looks like the chair had been moved to Area 51,” Davis added.  
  
Evan frowned. “So that’s where they’re headed?”  
  
“We believe so.”  
  
John was already at Area 51. He could take down the darts, no problem.  
  
“Evacuate the base, let them hit it. As soon as they bring down the Hive, John can hit them from Antarctica,” Evan said.  
  
Rodney’s throat closed. Evan didn’t realize the Chair _was_ at Area 51. Rodney saw the moment Evan realized where the chair was.  
  
“Look,” Sam said, “there are too many darts for the 302s to handle. If all of them are coming to Earth, let Sheppard handle them with the Chair. You take the 302s to nuke the Hive out of the sky.”  
  
“How do we get it away from the moon?” Evan asked.  
  
Sam’s gaze went distant. Then she said, “I have a crazy plan.”  
  
“ - so I’m really grateful for your help. Better go, though.” Dr. McAllister beamed, waved, and the connection went dead.  
  
Rodney stared at the blank screen.  
  
“Indeed, Doctor, thank you for all your help,” Major Haworth said. “You should join your family for supper.”  
  
Rodney took the hint for what it was and followed her back to the main living section, which was now fairly crowded with people. Jason was huddled with a bunch of other kids in his bunk fort, while Nancy and Grant were mingling with the other couples. Having John around didn’t automatically make things less awkward with Grant and Nancy - in fact, sometimes having John around made things worse - but without John, Rodney felt unhinged. Disconnected. Ungrounded.  
  
As long as Jason was safe and happy - and he would be both of those things with Grant and Nancy watching over him - Rodney didn’t need to hang around and hover.  
  
He wanted to know what was going on with Evan and John and the Hive, though. Rodney scanned the faces of the strangers around him and saw boredom, resignation, tiredness, but none of the undercurrent of fear he was feeling. None of them knew what was going on. If Rodney wanted to know, he’d have to take some initiative and find out himself. He was the smartest man in two galaxies, could MacGyver anything out of anything. Necessity was the mother of invention. And John hadn’t been answering his text messages. Given the kind of security that was all over Area 51, Rodney was surprised he’d gotten text messages from John and through to him at all, but that didn’t mean the damning silence and darkness on his phone was sitting right with him.  
  
Rodney supposed he ought to have been more worried at how easy it was to lift a walkie from one of the Marines who couldn’t seem to figure out if he was supposed to be security, bodyguard, or waiter. All Rodney had to do was stroll by while the Marine wheeled a tray of food into the room and snag the walkie off his belt in the ensuing rush of hungry people.  
  
Nancy and Grant encouraged Jason and a group of other children to sit in a circle and share their food and get to know each other, which meant Rodney had the privacy of the bunk tent (and use of the Ancient night light, which Jason had been forbidden from showing the other children) to work his science. Between the walkie, his pen knife, and the components from the cell phone he’d boosted from a different Marine, Rodney managed to cobble together a radio strong enough to pick up the frequency he wanted.  
  
He wanted the one Sam was on. With the cell phone screen, he could hack through the encryption on the channel to boot. Anyone who looked at him would see a man tapping away at a smartphone, sending an email or a text. Nothing suspicious here, no sir.  
  
Rodney plugged his earphones into the cell phone, popped one earbud into his ear, and began scanning the frequencies until -  
  
“Twelve o’clock high,” Evan was saying. “Range - eight kilometers and closing fast.”  
  
“You are cleared to engage. Good hunting, Colonel.” That was Davis.  
  
Evan was leading the 302s against the Hive? Had they managed to draw it away from the moon far enough to nuke it?  
  
Sam’s voice crackled over the radio. “Lorne, two darts have disengaged. They’re headed for the deck.”  
  
“I’m on it. Riggs, you’re with me.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Riggs’s voice was unfamiliar.  
  
The deck. That meant the ground, right? Rodney turned up the radio, pressed a hand over the earbud to try to get clearer sound. Why was Evan engaging with the darts? Wasn’t John supposed to be handling the darts with the chair?  
  
“We’ve got a whole bunch more on our six, Colonel,” Evan said.  
  
“All right, Sheppard,” Sam said. “You’re up. Remember, save some drones for the Hive just in case. And watch those ZPM levels.”  
  
John’s response was delayed for a second, but then he said, “On it,” and the sound of his voice made Rodney relax a fraction.  
  
Everything would be fine.  
  
“Colonel,” Evan said, “there’s too many of them. There’s no way Sheppard can fend them all off and have drones in reserve.”  
  
“Lorne,” Sam began, and then Riggs shouted,  
  
“Two bandits, closing in fast!”  
  
“Break left,” Evan ordered.  
  
“Yes, sir - ahhh!” Riggs’s reply cut off in a scream and a burst of static.  
  
“Riggs? Riggs! Dammit!”  
  
Sam broke in over Evan’s furious swearing. “Lorne, it’s a kamikaze run. Lorne you have to -”  
  
There was silence, and then Evan said, voice faint, “Stargate Command, this is Lorne. Am I seeing what I’m seeing?”  
  
Sam’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “The Chair’s been destroyed. And - and none of the other 302s made it.”  
  
Rodney’s heart stopped.  
  
Evan said nothing.  
  
Sam said, “Lorne, what are you doing? Lorne, your orders are to return to the base.”  
  
“I still have a nuke. I can finish the mission.” Evan’s voice was flat. Dead.  
  
Sam’s words spiraled over and over in Rodney’s head. _The Chair’s been destroyed._  
  
Not just the Chair. John. He’d been in the chair. _Everyone_ at Area 51 had been destroyed.  
  
Cold stole through Rodney’s limbs, and he sat frozen, listening to Sam and Evan’s back and forth.  
  
“You don't have enough fuel! You'll never make it to the hive.”  
  
“He's going to come to us. As soon as he’s away from the moon, I can do what we planned.”  
  
“You won’t make it.”  
  
“I've got enough fuel to establish orbit. I'm going to shut everything down except basic life support. That way, he won't detect me until it's too late.”  
  
“Even if that does work, given what we know about this ship, one nuke is not going to be enough.”  
  
“Maybe not from the outside. Shooting my way into the dart bay will be simple enough. I can detonate from the inside.”  
  
“Evan, I can't ask you to do that.”  
  
“It’s what John would have done.”  
  
Sam said nothing.  
  
“Right. Commencing radio silence. Lorne out.”  
  
Rodney turned off the radio, tugged out the earbuds, and bundled the entire contraption into his jacket pocket. Then he stood up and crossed the room, approached the Marine standing guard at the door. Nancy called his name, but he ignored her, instead asked the Marine for an audience with Major Haworth, please.  
  
He curled his hands into fists, forced himself to stay calm.  
  
In his pocket, his actual cell phone buzzed.  
  
He fished it out. There was a text message from John Sheppard. _I love you._ And a voicemail. When Rodney listened to it, there was John’s voice.  
  
_Love you._  
  
Rodney closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He would never get to hear John’s voice again.  
  
No. He couldn’t think like that. Area 51 was secure. They had a bunker. They had warning. Some people could have survived. He needed to take to Sam and find out. The Marine, who’d disappeared into a back room to speak to Haworth, reappeared.  
  
“I’m sorry, Doctor, now isn’t a good time.”  
  
Rodney wanted to scream at the Marine, but he was just a kid. He probably had no clue what was going on. Rodney suspected Haworth barely understood what was going on.  
  
“Thank you,” he said. He spun on his heel and headed back to the living area. Nancy and some of the other mothers had organized the children into teams to play party games, like musical chairs and egg-and-spoon races.  
  
Grant spotted him immediately and peeled away from the group of men who were watching the games and acting as the cheering section.  
  
“What happened?” Grant asked. “You busted out of here like a bat out of -”  
  
“I need your help,” Rodney said.  
  
Grant blinked. “I’m no scientist. I can’t -”  
  
“Help me,” Rodney said. He fought to keep his tone even, but he didn’t think he succeeded all that well, because Grant nodded quickly.  
  
“Tell me what to do.”  
  
It was surprisingly easy to fall back into old patterns, like being on a gate team. Rodney had to take point, because there were no soldiers to protect him (don’t think of John), but they made it through the cement corridors to the computer room.  
  
There was no one standing guard, because none of the bunker’s new residents besides Rodney, Grant, Nancy, and Jason even knew the room existed.  
  
“Keep watch,” Rodney said.  
  
Grant looked nervous but positioned himself in the doorway as a lookout anyway. Rodney sat down at the computer terminal he’d been working at previously and opened a command prompt window. First things first, make sure no one inside the building could see what he was doing. Next, fire up the video connection to the Mountain. He was back in Sam’s office again. Good. She probably had access to more than Dr. McAllister did. The hard part was cracking the SGC’s firewalls so he could access the security feed remotely, but Rodney managed to get it done in half an hour.  
  
“How long is this going to take?” Grant whispered.  
  
“Not much longer.” Rodney had to find out what had happened at Area 51, had to know the truth, whether John was dead. The next hardest part was getting the display in the room he wanted, the command room. The hardest part of all, though, was getting the sound.  
  
Finally, he found what he wanted, the familiar bank of computers and walls of monitors marking the command room. He could see the display of the battle, the big red X over the map of America, the hive ship pulling out of the moon’s orbit.  
  
“Where the hell is he?” Sam muttered to herself. She was staring at one of the monitors fixedly.  
  
“Ma’am,” Davis began.  
  
The radio crackled to life. Rodney leaned in. He had to hear what the ground troops reported in. Maybe Evan was mistaken. Maybe John had survived. Maybe this was him, asking for help. Maybe -  
  
“Stargate Command, this is Lorne. Come in.”  
  
Sam’s expression was grim, but she said nothing.  
  
Evan continued. “Look, I don't have much time before this place is swarming with Wraith, so I'm arming the nuke. Just do me a favor, when Atlantis shows up, tell them I said goodbye. Tell Ronon I - I love him.”  
  
Rodney’s throat closed. Evan and Ronon.  
  
And then he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in over two years. “Lorne! This is Zelenka. Stop what you are doing!”  
  
“Zelenka?” Evan echoed.  
  
Radek said, “Yes, it is me! I have Teldy and Teyla and Ronon. We are onboard the Hive!”  
  
“What? How?”  
  
“Story is too long. Do not detonate the nuke!”  
  
Evan sighed. “This Hive is about to attack Earth, Radek. I don't have much of a choice.”  
  
There was a pause, and then Radek said, “Wait. We will come to you. We will make - a remote detonator.”  
  
“What’s the point? We can’t get off this ship.” Evan sounded resigned. Numb. Exactly how Rodney felt.  
  
He closed his eyes and felt tears slip down his face. First John, now Evan and Radek and Teyla and and Ronon and Teldy.  
  
Radek said, “That is where you are wrong.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“There is a stargate on the ship, to block Earth from dialing out. We can go back to Earth while Atlantis is still in hyperspace.”  
  
Rodney opened his eyes, wiped his face, took a deep breath. Yes. Where there was a gate, there was hope.  
  
“Get here fast,” Evan said. “Stargate Command, this is Lorne.”  
  
Sam, with a watery smile, said, “This is Stargate Command. We read you loud and clear. Bring your team home, Colonel.”  
  
“Roger that.” There was a brief spark of the old Evan, the one who’d made jokes about skipping courses in Major School, and Rodney smiled faintly.  
  
“Rodney,” Grant hissed, “what’s going on? Did one of those guys just say ‘nuke’?”  
  
Rodney nodded absently.  
  
Grant came and peered over his shoulder. “Are people firing nukes? Is that why we’re in this bunker?”  
  
“The nuke won’t hurt us,” Rodney said. “Stay at the door.”  
  
“But I -”  
  
“Trust me, Grant.”’  
  
And, for some reason, Grant did.  
  
Davis reared back. “They’re powering weapons.”  
  
Sam grabbed the mic, yanked it close. “Lorne, what’s your status?”  
  
“We’re headed for the gate.” Evan’s voice was dangerously flat. Rodney leaned in, listened closely. What he had missed?  
  
“How much time?” Sam asked.  
  
“Five to get there,” Teldy said, and Radek finished, “Five to recalibrate the DHD.”  
  
“Ten minutes,” Evan confirmed.  
  
Sam’s head bowed. Then she said, “The Hive is powering weapons. We’re out of time.”  
  
Evan said, with frightening finality, “Understood.”  
  
Sam closed her eyes and looked ready to cry, but she was a commanding officer, and she swallowed it down. One of the minions beckoned, and Sam went to peer over her shoulder. She dashed back to the mic.  
  
“Evan, wait! We’re detecting another ship.”  
  
Another Hive. No.  
  
But Sam said, “It’s Atlantis. They’re engaging the Hive.”  
  
“That’ll give us time to get to the gate,” Teldy said.  
  
“Godspeed,” Sam said, and then she and Davis and everyone else in the room was studying the battle monitors on the walls. Rodney couldn’t quite make out what was happening, but he curled his hands into fists, hoping and praying.  
  
Overhead alarms started blaring immediately. “Unscheduled off-world activation!”  
  
“It must be Lorne and his team,” Sam said. “Get them in here immediately.”  
  
A minion nodded and dashed out of the room.  
  
Davis pumped a fist in the air. “They did it!”  
  
That Rodney could make out, the image of the Hive exploding on the central battle monitor. Everyone in the room relaxed visibly.  
  
Sam leaned into her mic once more. “Atlantis, this is Stargate Command. Well done!”  
  
And Rodney heard Woolsey’s voice. “Thanks for the kind words, Colonel, but I wouldn’t pop the champagne just yet. We’ve lost orbit, and Doctor Beckett is unable to compensate. We’re going in.”  
  
Sam went pale. “Do you have enough shield to survive re-entry?”  
  
“We’re about to find out.”  
  
Everyone was staring at the battle monitor screens once more.  
  
The minion returned with Teldy, Teyla, Radek, and Evan on her heels.  
  
“Colonel,” Teldy began.  
  
“It’s Atlantis,” Davis cut in. “They lost orbit. We won’t get radio contact until re-entry is complete.”  
  
Sam bit her lip. Then she spoke into the mic. “Atlantis, this is Stargate Command. Do you read?”  
  
Harriman dashed into the room. “Colonel! We've been monitoring radio chatter. Several commercial vessels in the North Pacific have reported a giant fireball streaking across the sky.”  
  
Davis pressed his fist to his lips, expression grim.  
  
Sam curled her hand around the mic, grip white-knuckled. “Atlantis, this is Stargate Command. Do you read? Atlantis, this is Stargate Command. Please respond!”  
  
Evan bowed his head, his shoulders tight like piano wire.  
  
Woolsey’s voice sounded over the radio. “Stargate Command, this is Atlantis. Nice to hear from you again, Colonel.”  
  
Sam smiled cautiously. “Mister Woolsey, you gave us quite a scare.”  
  
“Sorry about that. We've completed our reentry and as far as I can tell, we're still in one piece. Doctor Beckett thinks he can bring us in over water, but…you might want to alert the Navy. It's going to be close.”  
  
“Understood.”  
  
Davis spoke up with, “We are tracking them again. We should be able to project coordinates for splashdown.”  
  
Sam turned to Harriman. “Walter, you'd better get me the President. It looks like Atlantis is coming home.”  
  
Harriman nodded and dashed out of the room, and everyone in the room broke into cheers, everyone except Teldy, Teyla, Radek, and Evan.  
  
Rodney cut the feed, shut down the computer.  
  
Earth was safe.  
  
At the expense of John and, if Evan’s expression had been any indication, Ronon.  
  
Rodney stood up and headed to the door.  
  
“Let’s go,” he said to Grant.  
  
“Is everything all right?” Grant cast him a sidelong look.  
  
“We’re safe,” Rodney said.  
  
“From what?”  
  
“That’s classified.”  
  
“I hate that word.”  
  
“So do I.” Because it meant Rodney would never be able to tell Jason how his father had died. They made it back to the living quarters, where the children had subsided from their games and were gathered around a woman reading them what sounded like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Jason was among them, sitting cross-legged on the floor and listening attentively.  
  
Nancy spotted him and hurried over. “Do you have an update on what’s going on?”  
  
“The situation has been resolved,” Rodney said. “We can pack up and go.”  
  
“And John?”  
  
Rodney’s breath hitched in his chest. “John is -” His voice caught on the word.  
  
Nancy frowned. “Rodney, where’s John?”  
  
Rodney shook his head. “I can’t -”  
  
Nancy pressed closer. “Rodney -”  
  
“He’s dead.”  
  
Nancy’s eyes went wide. “What? How?”  
  
“It’s classified.”  
  
Nancy bit her lip. “This. This is what I was always afraid of, when we were married.” Then she jabbed a finger at him. “John was supposed to be safe. He has a damn desk job. What the hell am I supposed to tell Jason? He thinks if he wins that stupid ‘math game’ that he gets to go flying with his father.”  
  
“Nancy,” Grant began.  
  
“This is why I didn’t want John to know about Jason,” she hissed. “Because if Jason got to know him and love him and then -”  
  
“John sacrificed everything for Jason,” Rodney snarled. “You have no idea what he gave up when he came to Washington. And you have no idea what he gave up today, not just for Jason, but for Grant and you and everyone on the damn planet.”  
  
“John shouldn’t have gone along with whatever harebrained heroics they talked him into. I thought he’d changed. But he’s the same old -”  
  
“It was supposed to be safe,” Rodney said. “He was supposed to be safe. No one thought - no one knew -”  
  
“Obviously no one thought,” Nancy snapped. She gestured at Jason. “Look at him. He’s happy! Are you going to tell him the bad news?”  
  
“Nancy,” Grant tried again.  
  
“He’s going to hate you. For giving him a father and then taking him away,” Nancy said.  
  
“I didn’t take him away!” Rodney’s throat closed. He swallowed down the fury and bile. “I didn’t do this. I didn’t want this. How could you think I wanted this? _My husband is dead._ ”  
  
Saying it like that made it true. Made it real.  
  
Rodney went numb. The world around him faded, and he couldn’t hear a thing. The room swam. Everyone looked like they were moving through water.  
  
Grant was saying something, touching him, but then Major Haworth was striding into the room, and two Marines were taking Rodney away, and he let them, because he wasn’t a person, he was a shell, a shell without a soul, because his soul was John, and John was gone.  
  
There might have been a car and a helicopter between the safehouse and the SGC, or a beam of Asgard light and a puddle jumper. Rodney didn’t know, and he didn’t care.  
  
Until he was standing in the briefing room at the SGC and staring at the familiar conference table. Evan came into the room. He was still wearing his flight suit with his name on it, and he was walking slowly, expression dazed.  
  
“Evan?” Rodney asked.  
  
Evan blinked, as if just noticing him. He opened his mouth to speak, but words must have deserted him, for no sound came out. He closed his mouth and stared down at his hands. “I - Ronon - he didn’t -”  
  
Everything hit full force. John was dead. Ronon was dead. Area 51 was destroyed.  
  
Rodney crossed the room, dragged Evan into a rough embrace, and burst into tears.  
  
Evan clutched at him tightly, making small, agonized sounds, like each sob was being wrenched out of him.  
  
Rodney held onto him, because in that moment, no one else understood what they were going through, and all they had was each other.  
  
“Colonel, Rodney -” Sam began.  
  
Evan yanked himself backward, but Rodney hung on, because he couldn’t do this alone.  
  
Sam stepped back and murmured to someone outside the room, “Doctor McKay needs a moment.”  
  
“Rodney,” Evan whispered, “please, we have to get it together. Just long enough for - for them.”  
  
Rodney sucked in huge gasps of air, trying to stop his chest from shuddering with sobs, and nodded.  
  
Evan squeezed his shoulder tightly, then stepped back.  
  
“We’re ready, ma’am,” he said to Sam. His voice wavered only slightly. Rodney scrubbed a hand over his face, smoothed down his clothes.  
  
Sam was still wearing her BDUs, but everyone else who came into the briefing room after her was wearing service dress blues. Except for President Hayes and his cadre of Secret Service agents.  
  
“Colonel Lorne,” the President said.  
  
Evan drew himself up to attention.  
  
“And Dr. McKay.”  
  
Rodney stared at the man blankly. Why was he here? What did he want? What could he possibly do that would fix the gaping hole in Rodney’s life?  
  
President Hayes cleared his throat, and a uniformed officer stepped forward, handed him an open velvet case. Rodney recognized the blue star-spangled ribbon and the inverted golden pentagram with Lady Liberty in the middle. The word _VALOR_ was just above the star. The Medal of Honor.  
  
The living were rarely awarded the Medal of Honor.  
  
Rodney blinked rapidly. They’d only give this to John if he were really dead. This was all Jason would have left of his father.  
  
Another uniformed officer stepped forward with an open velvet case. This one held a blue and white ribbon with a white upright pentagram with white-on-blue stars in the center.  
  
Evan swallowed loudly.  
  
President Hayes began, “The Congressional Medal of Honor is not normally awarded so quickly, but given the classified nature of -”  
  
Rodney’s ears roared, and the room swam around him once more. Then it dipped. He was falling.  
  
Sam lunged, caught him, and she and a couple of uniformed officers helped him into one of the seats.  
  
“Like I said, sir,” Davis murmured, “maybe we ought to wait a few days.”  
  
There was a stir when Harriman tried to enter the briefing room and the Secret Service agents tried to stop him.  
  
“Ma’am,” he called out to Sam, “there’s something you need to hear.”

“Walter, now’s not a -”  
  
“Ma’am.”  
  
“I’ll be right there.”  
  
“I’ll patch it through,” Harriman said. He scooped up the conference call speaker phone and placed it in the middle of the conference table, typed into it. Then he said, “Hello?”  
  
Rodney snapped back to lucidity when Jason said, “Hello!”  
  
“Now, can you tell me your message again?”  
  
“Uh-huh. Daddy says he needs you to come dig him out. He says - he says he’s about bled his entire brain out through his nose boosting the chair to maintain the shields. He says Kipplinger is gone and Lee is gone and he can’t look at them anymore and he wants Rodney.”  
  
One of the officers, who outranked Sam judging by the stars on his shoulders, said, “What the hell is this?”  
  
“He called the switchboard,” Harriman said. “He had all of Colonel Sheppard’s authorization codes.”  
  
Rodney leaned close to the speaker. “Jason, buddy, are you talking to Daddy right now?” His heart pounded. John was alive. The Chair had kept him alive. Of course. It would protect its operator. How could he have not known, not foreseen - ?  
  
“Yeah! My night light is also a walkie talkie! Did we win the math race, Rodney? After Colonel Carter digs Daddy out of the hole, will he take me flying?”  
  
“Yes, you won the math race,” Sam said. “Tell your Daddy we’ll be right there.”  
  
“Okay!” Jason’s voice went muffled, but they all heard him say, “Colonel Carter says she’s gonna come dig you out.” There was a pause, and then, “I love you too, Daddy.” Jason said, louder, “Rodney, Daddy says he loves you!”  
  
Sam nodded to Harriman. “Scramble medical and engineering teams to Area 51.”  
  
“Yes, Ma’am.”  
  
“Tell Daddy I love him too.” Rodney knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he didn’t care, because John was alive.  
  
“What the hell was Sheppard thinking, giving some child his access codes?” another one of the uniformed officers demanded.  
  
“I suspect he was thinking he wanted to live,” President Hayes said.  
  
Evan stepped up to Sam. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I’d like to be part of the team that extracts Sheppard.”  
  
Sam looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “That would be good. Thank you, Colonel.” To Rodney she said, “Go. Join him.”  
  
Rodney nodded. “Thank you.” He leaned back into the conference phone. “Jason, Uncle Evan and I are going to go get Daddy. Keep talking to him, okay?”  
  
“Okay. I hafta go now, before Mommy finds out I used her phone. Love you! Bye bye.”  
  
The call went dead before Rodney could tell him off for stealing Nancy’s phone. He stood up and followed Evan to the door. They were going to rescue John.

 

*

  
John was pretty sure he’d been lying in the Chair forever. One moment it had been feeding him information at lightning speed, darts and targets and friendlies and drones drones drones, and then the world went white. And he couldn’t hear. And he couldn’t see. But he could feel reality shaking apart around him.  
  
He was so dead.  
  
Except then he could hear a familiar, faint humming, like Atlantis’s shield. The Chair didn’t have quite as much personality as Atlantis, but it still had a voice, still spoke to him in a way most Ancient devices didn’t.  
  
“Shield capacity at ninety-nine per cent. Oxygen filtration beginning.”  
  
“W-what?”  
  
“Running bio scan.”  
  
Warm tingling spread through John’s limbs.  
  
“Scan complete. Imperator is uninjured.”  
  
Imperator. That was what Atlantis called him. He hadn’t paid as much attention in Latin as he should have as a kid, but had decided that the word basically meant ‘operator’.  
  
“Am I uninjured? I - I can’t see.”  
  
“Eyes were damaged by the flash from the explosion. Sight temporarily suspended pending restoration of tissue.”  
  
“You said I was uninjured!”  
  
“Translation error; recomputing.”  
  
John sensed the equivalent of the chair clearing its throat.  
  
“You need to rest your eyes.”  
  
John forced himself to take a deep breath. “What happened?” The last thing he remembered before the explosion was two darts breaking away from the rest, Riggs getting shot down, Evan cussing up a storm.  
  
“Two Wraith Fighters disengaged from the pack and deliberately crashed into the facility.”  
  
Kamikaze came in all galaxies, then.  
  
“Are there any survivors but me?”  
  
“No survivors. Shield capability only extends to Imperator.”  
  
John wanted to curse the Ancients and their gene snobbery. Surely someone else out here had the gene. Maybe the chair’s shield capabilities only extended to someone who was in the chair.  
  
“What’s the drone capacity?”  
  
“Three percent.”’  
  
That would have been enough to take out the Hive.  
  
“And the Hive?”  
  
“Destroyed by Atlantis.”  
  
John got the odd sense that the chair thought of Atlantis as _Big Sister_. “Okay. So, why am I under a shield? If the threat is gone, it’s safe for me to leave, right?”  
  
“Negative.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
The chair bombarded him with data. He was buried under several tons of rubble. The shield could only hold for so long. He needed to get out. Right the hell now.  
  
“Let me see,” John said.  
  
“Your eyes need to rest.”  
  
“I said let me see!”  
  
The world coalesced into focus. The world was a humming blue shield and -  
  
Oh hell. Bill Lee, dead, sprawled across the shield, Kipplinger beside him. Bill’s eyes were wide with terror behind his broken glasses. Kipplinger was only half there, the other half of her either pinned or worse beneath the debris. And the rest of the world was grey. Grey and shadows and grey, solid cement.  
  
John had to get out. Get out now.  
  
“Rodney!”  
  
“Dr. M. Rodney McKay cannot hear you.”  
  
“Evan!”  
  
“Lieutenant Colonel Evan Lorne cannot hear you.”  
  
“Ronon!”  
  
“Specialist Ronon Dex cannot hear you.”  
  
“Sam!”  
  
“Colonel Samantha Carter cannot hear you.”  
  
“Grant?”  
  
“Grant Sherman cannot hear you.”  
  
“Jason...?”  
  
“Accessing...Imperator Parvus. Initiating link. Warning: this action will decrease shield life by five percent.”  
  
John blinked, sliding his gaze away from Bill and Kipplinger’s corpses. “What?”  
  
“Initiating link to Imperator Parvus.”  
  
John’s mind raced. Parvus. Latin. He remembered that. It meant...small.  
  
And then Jason’s voice filled his head. “Daddy?”  
  
John tried to sit up, banged against the shield, flinched. “Jason?”  
  
“Daddy, you didn’t say my night light was a walkie talkie!” Jason sounded delighted. He didn’t know what had happened.  
  
“I didn’t know it was, buddy.” John cleared his throat, tried to keep himself sounding as calm as possible. “Where are you?”  
  
“We’re back at home. We were in the top secret basement for a while, but then some Marines took Rodney away to talk to Colonel Carter and Mommy and Grant said we could go home, and Major Haworth let us go home.”  
  
Good. If they’d been allowed home, then the Hive really had been destroyed, the threat eliminated.  
  
“That’s great, buddy. Listen, I need you to do something for me. Something Top Secret. Can you do that for me?”  
  
“Like an adventure?”  
  
“Yes, an adventure.”  
  
“Like a spy adventure?”  
  
“Like a spy adventure.”  
  
“Okay. What do I do first, Colonel?”  
  
John closed his eyes and imagined Jason sitting on his bed and grinning excitedly as he spoke into the little Ancient device. Would he be in his pajamas? What time was it?  
  
“Can you go get Mommy’s cell phone?”  
  
“Sure. It’s charging in the kitchen.”  
  
“Good. Go get it. I need you to make a phone call.”  
  
“But I’m not supposed to use Mommy’s phone without asking her.”  
  
“This is Top Secret, remember?”  
  
“Mommy knows Top Secret things. She was with me and Rodney and Grant in the Top Secret basement.”  
  
“Mommy doesn’t have the same clearance as me, remember?”  
  
“Oh, yeah. Okay, going into stealth mode.”  
  
John’s heartbeat was as loud as a thousand drums in the silence that followed.  
  
And then Jason said, “I got it! I’m hiding in my closet. What now?”  
  
“I need you to dial this number.” John rattled off the number for Cheyenne Mountain. Even if Nancy’s work phone had an encrypted line - if Jason had managed to get into her work phone, which was doubtful - it would still get routed to the main switchboard.  
  
“It’s ringing. What now?”  
  
“Can you hold the walkie talkie up to the phone for me to hear?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
But John heard nothing. “Hello?” And he heard nothing.  
  
“Daddy? Are you there?”  
  
“I’m still here, buddy.”  
  
“I don’t think the operator lady can hear you.”  
  
John sighed. “Okay. Then I need you to repeat after me, okay? Say everything I tell you to say.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“What’s the operator lady saying?”  
  
“She said, ‘Cheyenne Mountain, how may I direct your call?’” Jason pitched his voice high in imitation of the woman.  
  
John smiled faintly. “Tell her you want to speak to Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman.” He’d be easier to reach than Sam, and he had a direct line to her.  
  
“She wants to know what my name is.”  
  
“Tell her you’re calling on behalf of Colonel John Sheppard.”  
  
“Okay.” Jason’s voice was a soothing murmur, and then she said, “She needs your authorization codes.”  
  
“All right. This is going to be the most important part. Say it exactly how I say it, okay?”  
  
“Yes, Daddy.” Jason giggled. He thought this was a spy game.  
  
John closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to stare at Bill and Kipplinger, and recited his authorization codes, slowly and clearly. He needn’t have worried. Jason was a brilliant child, and he recited them to the operator, matching every inflection in John’s voice.  
  
“She put me on hold,” Jason said. “The hold music is boring.”  
  
“What kind of music is it?”  
  
“I think it’s Britney Spears.”  
  
Jason called every female pop artist Britney Spears because Rodney did. Rodney was just as much of a music snob as John was, only in different genres.  
  
“I’ll be sure to have a chat with someone about the music selection when I get out of here,” John said.  
  
“What’s your favorite music, Daddy?”  
  
“Johnny Cash, remember?”  
  
Jason didn’t much have the attention span for music, despite Nancy, Grant, and Rodney’s collective efforts to get him to enjoy classical music.  
  
“Oh, yeah. Why?”  
  
“Because he’s got a great voice, and he plays the guitar really well, and he sings about everything.”  
  
“Everything?”  
  
“Everything that matters.”  
  
“Oh, hey, a man is talking to me. He wants to know where I got your codes.”  
  
“Tell him that you’re speaking to me through an Ancient device,” John said, wincing, because that was definitely an NDA violation. “Tell him you’re my son.”  
  
“Roger that.” And Jason’s voice faded to a soft murmur again.  
  
John opened his eyes. Keeping them closed for too long made him feel dizzy for some reason. He looked away from Bill and Kipplinger.  
  
“Wow,” Jason said. “He got super excited. He wants to know where you are and what’s going on.”  
  
“Tell him I’m in the chair under a ton of debris, and I need someone to come dig me out.”  
  
“What kind of chair?”  
  
“Jason, stay on task. Spy adventure, remember?”  
  
“Oh, yeah. Hang on.”  
  
Every time there was a pause, John was afraid he’d lost the connection with Jason.  
  
The chair said, “Shield capacity at ninety-four percent.”  
  
“How much time does that leave me?” John asked.  
  
The answer made his blood run cold.  
  
“Um. All he said was ‘sit rep’,” Jason said.  
  
John took a deep breath and composed a reply, edited out the cuss words, and spoke. Jason recited it dutifully, then informed John that he’d been put on hold again. Jason said he’d been taken off hold, and Harriman wanted to repeat his message, so he was going to repeat his message. There was more muffled murmuring, but somewhere in it, John distinctly heard a name: Rodney.  
  
“Jason, Jason! Tell Rodney I love him!”  
  
Rodney was safe. He was at the Mountain.  
  
John closed his eyes and wept silently.  
  
“Colonel Carter says she’s gonna come dig you out,” Jason said.  
  
John swallowed hard. “Thank you so much, buddy. I love you. Tell Rodney I love him.”  
  
“I love you too, Daddy.” And then Jason’s voice went muffled once more, but John heard him say, “Rodney, Daddy says he loves you!” And louder, “Daddy, Rodney says he loves you too.”  
  
John choked down a sob. “Thanks, buddy.”  
  
“Rodney says he and Uncle Evan are coming to get you. Colonel Carter told someone to - to ‘scramble medical and engineering teams to Area 51’.”  
  
John swiped a hand over his face. “Way to go, buddy. You’re the best spy ever.”  
  
Naturally, the word out of Jason’s mouth was, “Uh-oh.”  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“Mommy’s phone is buzzing. She’s looking for it. I hafta put it back.”  
  
“Okay. Go, go! Stealth mode!”  
  
“Be right back, Daddy.”  
  
And then Jason’s end went silent, not even muffled. Just...nothing.  
  
John closed his eyes against the visual onslaught of debris, blood, Bill, and Kipplinger. His heart pounded louder and louder and louder until Jason’s voice flooded his world.  
  
“I’m back and in bed and pretending to sleep,” he said. “Mommy didn’t notice I had her phone. Rodney told me to keep talking to you.”  
  
“That’s nice. I’m all alone and have no one to talk to right now.”  
  
“Oh yeah. Because Bill and Kipplinger are gone.”  
  
John swallowed hard. “That’s right. So...how was the Top Secret basement?”  
  
“Kinda boring, actually. Although Colonel Carter was super nice and let me and Rodney play in a math race so we wouldn’t get bored.”  
  
“Oh yeah? Tell me about the math race.”  
  
So Jason did, describing the problem itself, Dr. McAllister’s questions, and how he and Rodney won and Sam had promised Jason a ride in a jet with John, which was probably impossible but John would make sure it would happen anyway. Jason rambled on about the safehouse, the other kids, the games he played and the stories he listened to and how he got to sleep in a blanket fort made out of two bunk beds that he, Rodney, and Grant pushed together. He talked about how Nancy got him excused from school for the day (let him skip school) and she and Grant both skipped work, until his voice became softer and drowsier and he finally fell asleep.  
  
John closed his eyes and listened to his son breathe for a long time.  
  
The chair said, “Terminate the connection to preserve shield capacity?”  
  
“Can I initiate the link again at any time?”  
  
“You may.”  
  
“Okay. Terminate the connection. For now.”  
  
John closed his eyes and slept, dreamed fevered dreams of Wraith and explosions and death like he hadn’t dreamed in a long time.  
  
He woke when there was a sound overhead. Debris shifting.  
  
“Life signs detected,” the chair informed him.  
  
John opened his eyes, strained up toward the shield but didn’t quite touch it. Yes. The debris was moving, sliding. Every time it banged against the shield, he flinched.  
  
“Life signs approaching,” the chair said. “When egress is available, disengage shield?”  
  
“Yes,” John said. “Oh man, I will never make fun of engineers again.”  
  
He pressed himself flat against the chair when the entire debris field heaved and shook, squeezed his eyes shut, and then the shield shut off. John breathed fresh air.  
  
He opened his eyes.  
  
Rodney, Evan, a paramedic, and a gaggle of engineers were peering down at him, perched atop the cement.  
  
John surged upward, curled his hands over Rodney’s shoulders, and kissed him.  
  
And passed out.

 

*

  
Jason’s daddy was a superhero. He could make alien machines work with his brain (Jason could too, because he was Unmarked), and he flew helicopters and fighter jets and spaceships and fought aliens and he’d saved Earth when aliens attacked. Daddy had been living on an alien city in a whole ‘nother galaxy while Jason was a baby. He was so far away that no one knew where he was, because his job was super top secret, and that was why Jason didn’t get to see him for five years. But Daddy had come back, and he and Rodney moved to DC to be close to Mommy and Grant, and now they were all one big happy family. Jason’s Uncle Evan was a hero, too. He’d worked with Daddy in the other galaxy, gone through a Stargate just like Daddy, made friends with good aliens and saved them from the bad aliens, and he’d helped Daddy save Earth from the bad aliens.

Uncle Ronon had been a hero, too. He’d died, helping Uncle Evan fight the bad aliens.

The President had given Uncle Evan a special medal because Ronon was so brave.

The President had given one to Uncle Evan and Daddy, too.

There had been a lot of meetings, a lot of reports, a lot of cameras, and Jason had had to watch most everything on television at home, but he’d gotten to dress up in his best suit and watch as the President gave Daddy and Uncle Evan the medals.

And now - now he finally got to see Atlantis itself, the city that had saved Earth once and for all. But he had to be on his best behavior and wear his best suit and be very quiet, because they were having a funeral. For everyone who’d died when the bad aliens tried to blow up Daddy, but especially Uncle Ronon.

Uncle Ronon had been on the bad aliens’ space ship when it blew up, so he had no coffin. But there was a picture of him - scowling and looking fierce, because he was _badass_ even though Jason wasn’t supposed to even _think_ that word. And there were lots and lots of people, important ones like The President and General O’Neill and Mister Woolsey and Colonel Carter, and people from other countries, but also people who’d lived on Atlantis with Daddy and Rodney and Uncle Evan and Uncle Ronon for all those years.

Uncle Evan and Daddy had to wear their special blue uniforms and stand with Colonel Carter and General O’Neill and the other soldiers, and Jason had to stand with Mommy and Grant and Rodney and the civilians, but he could still see everything.

Atlantis itself was huge, as big as Manhattan, Rodney said. And when Jason walked through it, it talked to him, just like his special Night Light did. The funeral ceremony was being held in a huge open space that had super tall ceilings and a Stargate and opened out onto a balcony so they could see the Pacific Ocean.

Jason gazed out at the sea and faded out from the boring things the grown-ups were saying.

Atlantis spoke to him, curled around him the way Daddy did when he gave Jason hugs.

_Hello, Imperator Parvus._

Jason said hello back, as quietly as possible, because that was only polite, but Mommy hushed him.

Rodney squeezed his hand and smiled; Rodney knew what was going on. Even if he couldn’t talk to Atlantis like Daddy could, he understood how it all worked.

While the grown-ups kept talking about boring things, Jason listened to Atlantis. She told him all about Daddy, Rodney, Uncle Evan, and Uncle Ronon. The brave things they did. The silly things they did. The nice things they did. She told him all about the Ancients, and Pegasus, and all the things he could see if he stayed with her. She told him about how the Ancients were all a type of Unmarked, and how when they loved each other, they had a special Mark.

When Jason grew up, he would be welcome in Atlantis’s halls whenever he pleased, to walk alongside his fathers and uncles and aunts, and be the kind of man Atlantis knew he could be.

It was the kind of thing Mommy and Grant and Daddy and Rodney said sometimes, at the end of the day when Jason was tired and cuddled up next to them, how he was going to grow up and be amazing. It felt like Atlantis was cuddling them now.

Then Atlantis drew back, nudged him, and it was time to pay attention again.

Daddy was standing beside the picture of Uncle Ronon. “I don’t know that there’s much more I can say about Ronon Dex than has already been said. I was afraid of him when I first met him, I was honored to serve beside him, and I was glad to call him a friend. For all his being a man of few words, he always knew how to remind me what was most important: family, friends, loyalty, and love. The universe will be poorer for his passing.” Daddy bowed his head and looked incredibly sad, but then he lifted his head, nodded at Uncle Evan, and stepped back into place beside Colonel Carter.

Grandma Bobbie, Aunty Tally, Cousin Gabby, and Cousin Mikey were sitting in front of Aunty Jeannie, Uncle Kaleb, and Cousin Madison. Grandma Bobbie, Aunty Tally, and Cousin Gabby were all crying.

There was a long silence.

What was supposed to happen next?

Uncle Evan stepped forward, stood beside the picture of Uncle Ronon. He placed a hand on Uncle Ronon’s favorite sword for a moment, then straightened up, held himself as tall as he could. He said, “Ronon Dex was as fierce in love as he was fierce in battle. He lived to fight the Wraith and protect those he loved, and he died fighting the Wraith and protecting those he loved. He was an artist, a poet, a playwright, a man of incredible beauty and soul. He will be missed, and he will never be forgotten.” Uncle Evan swallowed hard, opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head and moved to stand back beside Daddy.

Aunty Teyla, who Jason had only met a few times, stepped forward then.

“While I understand that it is traditional to play Amazing Grace for a fallen soldier, Ronon had a request for if he ever fell in battle. In his time on Atlantis, everyone was very kind about teaching him about Earth’s ways, and while he never learned to enjoy watching television, he learned much about Earth music, and he said if he ever had to have a funeral, he wanted this song played.” She inclined her head to Uncle Evan and said, “Fare thee well.”

Uncle Evan’s shoulders began to shake.

Daddy stepped out of line, scooped up a guitar, and sat on a stool one of the lower-ranked soldiers brought him. Aunty Teyla stood beside him, and Daddy began to play, and Aunty Teyla began to sing.

Jason had never heard the song, but it was very pretty, and Aunty Teyla had a beautiful voice. He didn’t really understand the song, but he wanted to close his eyes and get swept away in the words anyway, to fly, to run through the rain.

_If I had wings like Noah's dove  
I'd fly the river to the one I love  
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well_

_I remember one mornin’, a drizzling rain  
Round my heart I felt an achin' pain  
Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well_

_Well I had a man who was long and tall  
Who moved his body like a cannon ball  
Well fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well_

_So show us a bird flyin' high above  
Life ain't worth living without the one you love  
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well  
Well fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well_

Jason didn’t know much, but he did know that _fare thee well_ meant goodbye.

_Goodbye, Uncle Ronon._

The song ended, and Aunty Teyla went to give Uncle Evan a hug.

General O’Neill stepped forward, and then there was thunder overhead. Zooming. F-302s. And cannons firing from somewhere outside.

Soldiers stepped forward, and they picked up a giant flag, a Pegasus Expedition flag. They folded it very tightly and gave it to Uncle Evan, who clutched it to his chest the way Jason used to hug his favorite teddy bear.

Then the funeral was over, and Jason was holding Mommy’s hand and Rodney’s hand and they were following all of the soldiers out of Atlantis and to the boats that would take them back to the land.

Once they were on the boats, Daddy stepped away from the other soldiers and came to hold Jason’s hand.

“You okay, buddy?”

Jason nodded. “You played really pretty, Daddy.”

“Thanks.”

Rodney leaned over and kissed Daddy, and he finally smiled. Then Rodney smiled down at Jason. “What did you think of Atlantis?”

“I like her,” Jason said. “She’s nice. Can I come back when I’m older?”

“She?” Daddy echoed.

Jason nodded. “Yeah.”

Daddy squeezed his hand. “You can definitely come back when you’re older.”

Jason smiled. “Good.” Then he tilted his head and pasted on his best charming smile, the one Daddy used so General O’Neill didn’t yell at him. “Did you really push Rodney off a balcony one time?”

Daddy’s eyes went wide. “Who told you that?”

“Atlantis.”

Rodney laughed. “Of course Atlantis did. Let’s go home, Jason.”

Jason nodded. It was his two weeks at Daddy and Rodney’s house. He looked over his shoulder at Atlantis and smiled at her.

 _I’ll be home soon,_ he said, and he felt her smile back.

**Author's Note:**

> Song credit: Dink's Song (Fare Thee Well) - folk song, though the version I listened to when I wrote the final scene was by Oscar Isaac.


End file.
